


Double-Winks: Blink an’ You Miss ‘em

by Except_on_Tuesday



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Gavin Reed, Animal Death, Babies, Blood and Violence, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Comfort, Dress Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gavin Reed Being an Idiot, Gavin Reed Tries, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Homelessness, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, Light Angst, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Shooting Range, Slice of Life, Sneaking Out, gift baskets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2020-12-28 09:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Except_on_Tuesday/pseuds/Except_on_Tuesday
Summary: “Statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.”1440 minutes in a dayGavin can’t be horrible for 1440 minutes, 24 hours, 7 days a week, all year.  He’s only human, after all.





	1. Ben

Apparently crime was taking a snow day in Detroit, and the DPD officers who weren’t out driving lazy patrol circuits around a silent city were in the bullpen catching up on paperwork or sorting through and cleaning their desks. The one suspect in custody was snoring in the drunk tank, enjoying being out of the cold warehouse Chris and Chen had found him in. DPD’s central heater was on, but orders were to keep it at a respectable temperature to avoid stressing the old system. ‘If you got jackets, wear ‘em’ had been the overall tone of that memo. 

Hank was out with Connor following up on a lead that absolutely could not wait until the morning thawed out a little more. At least, that’s what Connor claimed. And wearing a slightly too large, dark red beanie with a green pompom, who was going to deny the brown-eyed android anything? 

Fowler was home with strep throat which he’d caught from Chris who’d caught it from his son, who’d caught it from one of his little playmates.

That left Ben and Gavin as the only senior officers on the floor. Sprawled at odd angles in his chair, Gavin—bundled in a sweatshirt under his jacket and a ratty looking scarf looped around his shoulders—was lethargically typing one-handedly at his terminal, boredom relaxing his face enough to ease the scowl lines. 

The restless sergeant had spent nearly an entire hour prowling around the station unsuccessfully looking for mischief before finally settling at his desk with an air of ‘do not disturb me or I will kill you.’ 

Resting his eyes from his own terminal, Ben looked up and as he surveyed the quiet room he noticed Gavin’s free hand was curled around a steaming cup.

Ben frowned. “Gavin. Whatcha got there?” He kept his voice discreet.

“Not coffee.” Gavin muttered sulkily without looking away from the terminal screen as he continued to peck letters into words into a coherent report. 

“You know you’re not supposed to have that.” Ben said. 

“Since WHEN?!” Incredulously indignant, Gavin put his feet down—they’d been propped on the corner of the desk—and he pulled the cup to his chest protectively, ready to defend his right to the beverage by any means necessary. 

“You know when.” Ben turned his ‘listen to me’ eyebrows on, but Gavin was immune to all silent, parental-type expressions. “Go pour it out.” Ben ordered. 

“No.” Gavin scowled and took an antagonistic sip, wincing at the heat.

“You can have the hot chocolate—

Gavin’s cheeks flushed red. “This is chocolate!” 

Only Gavin could make the word ‘chocolate’ sound like a declaration of World War III.

Indignant in turn, Ben spread his hands, “You just told me it was hot coffee!” The slowest day they’d had in ages and Gavin still found something to fight about. 

“Not! Coffee!” Gavin slammed the cup down, ignoring the slosh of hot liquid onto his desk, and pulled on the ends of his scarf as he worked himself into a rage. “Why don’t you put your hearing aids in! You old...ol’...” The sergeant sputtered for a word, “...koala!” 

Too accustomed to Gavin to be offended or hurt, Ben did grimace once he realized the younger man’s flare up was entirely his fault. Unless he wanted to blame Gavin’s mumbling, but that observation wouldn’t help anything.

Muttering and scowling, Gavin slumped down in his chair, energy spent. He crossed his arms and stewed, kicking the misshapen trash basket under his desk.

“Gavin."

Nothing.

"Gavin.” 

The detective startled when he noticed Ben crouched alongside his chair. “G’way.” Gavin tried to blink back the black spots dotting his vision. Ben’s hands reached toward him. “’ey. None dat.” The younger man leaned away, nearly falling out of the chair.

Ben rested his hands on the chair arm. “You’re choking yourself, pal.”

Gavin blinked uncomprehendingly. 

With big and slow movements, Ben gently loosened the coils in the scarf Gavin had unconsciously tightened around his own neck. 

Finally able to take a proper breath, Gavin cleared his throat and gingerly touched the red marks around his neck. He hadn’t felt anything.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you before.” Ben said. “That was my fault.”

Gavin scowled. “Got that right.” He muttered while he unwrapped and rewrapped the scarf around his neck, trying to remove the memory of Ben’s friendly hand. 

Situation diffused, Ben decided to call a ‘win.’ He groaned as his knees and back creaked as he struggled to his feet. The cold wreaked havoc with the metal pins in his body.

Gavin had his eyes glued on the terminal before him and a nasty scowl on his face; to anyone watching he was completely ignoring the older detective struggling to stand beside him.

If not for the scarred and steady hand that gripped his elbow, withdrawing only once he was on his feet, Ben would have thought the same thing.


	2. Chris (Part 1)

“And then you know what I did? D’ya? ‘ey, Chris!” 

A rubber band snapped against Chris’ ear. “Ow! What the heck Reed?” He pawed at his stinging flesh and then yelped when another band twanged across his nose, nearly taking out an eye. “Stop! Okay. I’m listening!”

Satisfied that he had the patrol cop’s attention, Reed stretched a third band over his fingers and snapped it at Chris anyway. 

“What was that for?” Chris rubbed his neck against his shoulder. “I said I was listening!” He brushed the rubber bands off with one hand. Where did anyone find rubber bands these days anyway?

Reed kicked his feet up onto the dash knocking mud and dried slush from the tread into the air vents. Wasn’t his car. He didn’t have to clean it. “Because it’s fun. And there’s nothing you can do about it. And to teach you a lesson. And because I wanted to. And I’m a sergeant and you aren’t. Anymore stupid questions? No? Good. Anyway,” Reed swept out one hand, narrowly avoiding hitting the window as he continued his story. “So, this guy right? He opens the door like a complete moron, sees my badge and takes off.”

“Maybe if you didn’t wear your badge in plain view.” Chris muttered, annoyance making him bold. He’d been driving Reed around to various addresses for what seemed like hours listening to his boasting and bragging. Apparently Reed’s car was out of commission and he wanted someone to drive him around for follow-ups with witnesses. Why he hadn’t made them come to the station, Chris didn’t want to ask.

“Did anybody ask for a patrol cop’s opinion?” Reed’s scowl darkened his face. “When I want to hear worthless commentary, I’ll tell you.” He was quiet for a minute as he reviewed where he was in the story, fingers tapping against his knee. “Oh, right.” He snapped his fingers, “So. You listening?”

“Yes.”

“So I go after this guy.” He laughed; Chris winced at the volume. “I go after ‘im right out through the car wash. And I tell you, those warning signs are serious when they’re all ‘don’t come in or else’.”

“You mean the ‘Danger do not enter’ signs?”

“Same thing. So guess what happened to ‘im?” 

“Who?”

“My suspect! The one involved in that dog fighting triple homicide bet gone wrong. Only the crime of the year. No wonder you’re still...” Gavin flapped a dismissive hand, “You.”

“So what happened?”

“Well duh, he got stuck in the mechanism-thingy...you know...the giant toothbrush thing?”

Chris’ brow furrowed as he imagined the inside of a carwash. Now that he thought about it...it sorta did look like a giant mouth with electric toothbrushes...huh, no wonder Damian cried whenever they went through it. Freaky...he side-eyed Reed who was launching into another part of the bizarre story that had started at 9 that morning and hadn’t found its end yet...

Had Reed ever been afraid of anything? Giant toothbrushes or otherwise...

“Turn here.”

“Huh?”

Reed’s voice shifted from its fervent story-teller excitement to the stern and harsh tone of a foul tempered detective sergeant. “Are you deaf? Turn!”

Chris turned, but no sooner did he see the street then he was trying to pull the car around into a U-turn inadvertently smacking Reed’s head against the window with the abruptness of the maneuver. 

No, no, no, no, no not this street. Any street but this!

“Miller!” Reed snapped. “What’s your problem?”

Chris hated this street. Hated it. He’d been avoiding it ever since November. Now, with all Reed’s yammering, he’d forgotten and from force of habit had nearly gone down the miserable road. 

“I’m sorry, sergeant, but I’m not going down this road.”

Reed’s eyebrows rose. “Ex-cuse me? When did they promote you? I’m giving the orders here! All you havta do is obey PO Miller!”

Chris shook his head. Hating the hot wetness blurring his vision. Don’t cry in front of Reed. Don’t do it. He’ll never let me live it down. It’ll be the next story he tells to someone. All about crybaby Chris crying over big scary androids. 

Like the hothead he was, Reed grabbed the wheel and jerked it over to keep the car from making its turn. They hit a curb and only barely managed to avoid hitting a fire hydrant.

Chris slammed on the break and found himself staring down the street he’d nearly died on only a few months ago. And murdered four androids.

It’d been bad enough before he’d gotten to know Hank’s android.

Seeing the vibrant and lively Connor everyday made the memories and horrors of what Chris had done so much worse. He had no reason to shoot those androids. They weren’t doing any harm...not really. Two patrol cops had no business opening fire on a crowd of androids...instead they just treated the poor things like targets at a firing range. Helpless objects. People. He'd killed four...individuals...

He roughly scrubbed his hands over his eyes. The tears he hadn’t wanted to fall were now all over his face making it sticky and blotchy. 

“Ripped his pants right off. I’m surprised he didn’t lose an arm too.” Chris was unceremoniously shoved out of the driver seat and into the passenger. Wriggling himself upright Chris stared in surprise. 

At some point Reed had gotten out of the car and crossed around to commandeer the driver’s side. Adjusting the seat to slide it forward a few inches, Reed popped the car into reverse.

“So I got this 300 pound half naked,” still telling his ridiculous story, Reed backed the car into the thankfully empty street. Another snap of the shift stick, and they were rolling forward into the street that Chris hated at a much slower pace that Chris would have wanted. 

“Reed, what’re—

“Shut up and listen.” Reed snapped. “This is the good part.”

So Chris listened but he also stared at the street. He hadn’t been down it for months. He’d half expected it to be covered in bodies and blue blood, but it wasn’t. It’d been cleaned and except for a few memorials set up by the androids, it was empty of all indications that a massacre had occurred there. 

Reed guided the car to the curb; put it into park. 

“Why’re we stopping?”

“Because I like to waste time.” Reed said sweetly. “Why d’ya think!?” He growled and pointed across the street and stuffed a handful of crumbled bills into Chris’ hand. “There’s a coffee shop just around there. Do I need to explain to you how to order coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah. Bring me a coffee. I’m gonna drive around and I’ll pick you up on the other side.”

“But—

Reed rapidly locked and unlocked the doors, the obnoxious sound drowning out Chris’ protest. With a bad tempered glower of his own, the patrol officer exited the car, slamming the door hard enough to cause the whole thing to sway with the force. 

He could have sworn he heard Reed cackling as the car pulled away from the curb. 


	3. Chris (Part 2)

Deserted by Reed and alone in the street—Detroit had yet to refill completely from the evacuation—Chris zipped up his DPD jacket and walked in the direction Reed had pointed. 

“Stupid, jerk, couldn’t drop me off closer.” Typical. Reed probably stopped the car right when he got the whim for coffee and then hadn’t even considered making Chris’ life easier. The man was an interpersonal communications nightmare. 

_I can’t believe there’s actually a coffee shop open around here._

Chris slowed down as he came closer to the nine android memorials set up in a row along the street. They were about the size of a headstone, but much prettier with intricately woven frames of polymer piping with semi-transparent mosaic insets. Each was decorated with holographic designs—curiously not with any revolutionary symbols. 

He stopped in front of one. Its holographic decorations were blurred and distorted. Kicking carefully at the snow around the memorial, Chris uncovered the small self-powered projector that had been half buried by ice and snow. He knelt down on one knee and carefully brushed the lens clean with the back of his hand. 

That done he remained where he was and stared at the memorial. Whoever had set it up had chosen to project fans of color that spread out over its surface in a shifting rhythm. 

Chris had kept the interior pain he felt quiet, hoping it would disappear. 

But it hadn’t. 

He’d thought it was a result of his near death experience, but he’d been to mandatory therapy sessions and the therapist said he was making progress. He was still jumpy around androids—and to his shame around Connor who tried not to take it personally, but Chris knew the android felt things much deeper than he let on.

_But_, Chris thought, _it isn’t about what they did to ME. It’s what I did to THEM_. 

The urge to confess.

_I killed four of them._

But no one to confess to. 

In the eyes of the law, he hadn’t done anything wrong. The androids hadn’t been acknowledged as people. And the DPD didn’t require a shooting incident report or the usual psychological evaluations for shootings involving androids—not then and not now. 

Markus had met with Fowler to ask for a public statement regarding the DPD’s actions during the revolution and to request changes in DPD policy toward officers involved in android shootings. 

Chris hadn’t been there of course, but senior staff had been ordered to attend as a compulsory show of respect for the android leader. So Reed had been there. And it wasn’t long before Reed had given a play-by-play of the meeting complete with commentary to anyone who’d listen—his usual victims Chen and Chris.

In sum, Markus wanted DPD officers to be held to the same standards for shootings involving androids as they were for those involving humans. 

The meeting...didn’t....really go all that well. According to Reed, it’d nearly turned into the next world war when Markus and Fowler butted heads. Connor must’ve been using every ounce of his negotiator skills to keep things civil.

Anyhow....

Regardless of the law or the department policies, Chris still felt...stained from the shooting. He could hardly bear to hold his own son anymore.

Suddenly overwhelmed, he muffled a sob in his gloved hands as the feelings that’d been roiling in him since November finally decided that this was a good place and time to spill out. 

_‘You don’t have to do this...no....please.....please.’ _

Those words could have been so easily thrown back in his face. Chris dug his fingers into his eyes until he saw colored spots. The androids hadn’t had the chance to beg for mercy. 

Chris had seen the fury and hatred and, ultimately, disgust in Markus’ eyes when he’d proclaimed his judgement over Chris and his patrol partner. The android had wanted to inflict revenge upon the men who’d shot down the unarmed androids. But he hadn’t. He was better than humans. And proved it in one of the toughest moments possible.

“I’m sorry.” Chris whispered. He didn’t even know which memorials belonged to the androids he’d killed. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was a good guy cause I wore a badge, but...I was wrong.” He rubbed his face clean with his sleeve. “I don’t care what the laws decide or the department says. I’m gonna protect your people. An’ today when I’m off-duty I’m gonna ask how I can help.”

_Maybe Connor can introduce me to some of the androids he knows._ Chris felt anxiety ball up in his stomach at the thought of facing androids after what he’d done, but...

He stood. “I’m gonna do it.” He couldn’t erase the November stain with a few good deeds, but he could use it...like a...memorial...his own tribute to the lives he’d stolen. 

He released a shuddering sigh and brushed the snow from his knees. He’d have to tell someone someday, but he wasn’t ready for anyone to try and take the stain away. Not yet. Not when he still deserved to wear it.

Chris sighed again and looked around. “Oh. Yeah. I’m coffee boy today.” He could have told Reed ‘no,’ but sometimes it was just easier to do what the man demanded. 

\--

It was the only one on the street. Chris stared at the coffee shop. And it was very much closed. 

Reed was going to have a fit. And Chris was stuck in the car with him. 

The patrol cop stamped his feet to keep away the cold seeping through his boots and weighed his options. There was another coffee shop around the block. He could walk there, get what Reed wanted and then come back and the whole problem would be solved. Or he could go back empty handed and tell the bad-tempered sergeant that he couldn’t have his caffeine fix because Reed was wrong about—

Yeah, no. 

_Looks like I’m walking._ Chris sighed and started the trek. 

\--

When he finally got back to where Reed said he was going to meet him, Chris glared. Through the tinted windows of the patrol car he could see clearly, clearly—unless he was stress hallucinating—that Reed HAD a coffee.

Some kind of latte monstrosity with a mountain of whipped cream that the sergeant was blithely shaving off the top and eating with a straw, feet kicked up onto the dash, sprawled over the center console on his elbow and reading something on his phone. And he was sitting in the passenger seat, expecting Chris to be his chauffeur. He dumped Chris out in the cold and then went for coffee? Chris hadn't taken that long to return.

Chris swore at the man as he ripped open the driver side door. 

If Reed was startled he hid it well. He licked cream from his lips and pointed the straw, one end chewed to shreds, at Chris. “You wanna wear this?” He threatened, turning his attention back to the beverage. 

“I’m not unarmed.” Chris hefted his own cup of coffee. 

Reed's shoulders went up an inch and he looked over at Chris without raising his head, only his eyes. At the sight of the coffee, his eyes widened. The tension left his shoulders and his head came up in interest. “You. Where’d. Where’d you get that?”

“Everything on that street is closed.” Voice taunt with barely restrained anger, Chris slid into the driver seat, knees squished until he adjusted the seat, and slammed the door with a metallic bang. “I had to walk a whole block for it. But apparently you planned on getting your own in the first place. What’s with the power games?”

“That’s for me?” Reed pointed at the cup with the straw.

Chris evaluated the consequences of hurling coffee at his infuriating superior officer. Chen might’ve. For all her stoicism, she had weird moments of precision fury—like laser guided rockets. But Chris was a married man with a kid. He was supposed to set an example. _But Damian isn’t here is he?_ The malicious thought waggled its eyebrows at him. _C’mon, stand up for yourself. The coffee isn’t even that hot. He backed off from Chen after she stood up to him._

Flinging coffee around just wasn’t his style. Chris set the cup into the holder. 

The sergeant cracked open the lid and mosquito-like jabbed in the straw, heedless of the ‘hot’ warnings printed all over the cup.

“Yeah. It’s yours.” Chris muttered, crossing his arms.

“’s cold. An’ not enough sugar.” Reed complained as he licked the end of the straw and stabbed it back into the latte in his other hand. After taking a long noisy slurp he said, “Alright. Next address is in the GPS. What’re you waitin’ for?” He kicked the dash, leaving a scuff mark, as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “Let’s go.”

Chris sighed and hit the ignition. As they pulled back out into the road, Reed settled into the seat with both drinks in his hands, straw between his teeth, and energetically resumed his story right where he’d left off. 

“...readin’ this guy ‘is rights an’ ’s’all ‘wh’re my pants?’ an’ I tell’m....”

It was gonna be a long day.


	4. Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Warning in End Note

It was a high profile crime. A well to do socialite and her entire family, murdered. Not even the family dog survived. It was the first thing Connor saw when he walked into the room. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the little furry animal curled up under the huge Christmas tree. 

A familiar shoulder-check shoved him aside and Reed sauntered into the room as if fashionably late to a party he was never invited to. “The Grinch’s revenge?” He snarked as he took in the crime scene. He was about to add to his commentary when he saw who else was in the room. “Oh. Hey. Uh. Captain.”

“They told me that you had a habit of disrespecting the dead. And I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” Captain Fowler stood up from where he’d been inspecting a body covered by a sheet. “Can you guess what happened?”

“Someone didn’t get what they wanted for Christmas?”

From the corner of his eye Gavin saw BOTH Hank and Connor facepalm. 

_Great. Now what?_

He crossed his arms and settled on a glare, but can’t glare at captains...well, not captains named Fowler...he glared at the ground, his eyes followed the little blood trail around to the tree to the little animal there. 

_F—in’ shame. What’d that bit of fur ever do t’anyone? But if innocence was any sort of defense I’d be outta job._

“Reed.”

Gavin looked up from where he’d moved to stare down at the animal under the tree. “What? You call me down here and you don’t want me to investigate or what?”

“I called you down here to help with witness testimonies.”

“Well, then where’re they?” 

“Waiting on lawyers.”

“Oh, hell, we’re gonna be here all night.”

"Detective Reed, we're professionals. We can't let personal feelings get in the way of doing our job."

"...Feeling deviant are you, Mr. failed deviant hunter?"

"That's enough!" Hank shouted. He knew how much that title bothered Connor, and the poor kid's LED was already a pitiful yellow at the moment. "Not another word, Reed." To Connor, "You okay, kid?"

"I'm a professional. I'm gonna do my job, lieutenant."

"Suck up."

Fowler's 'TSK' was loud enough to convey his explicit, yet unstated, command.

\--

Five minutes later...

\--

‘plink’ ‘plink’

‘plink’ ‘plink’

‘tink’ ‘plink’ ‘tink’

“Stop.”

‘plink’ ‘plink’

‘tink’ ‘plink’ ‘tink’

‘plink’ ‘plink’

“Gavin Reed. Touch that ornament again and I’ll break your arm.” 

“Not my boss, Hank.”

“Actually, he is.”

“Shut the f—up, tinman.”

“Reed, try behave like a d—m sergeant and stop f—ing around the crime scene.”

‘plink’

“REED!”

“It was Connor!”

“Was NOT!”

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Well, that I do agree with.” Connor’s mumble was too soft for anyone but Gavin to hear. 

“Why you plastic—

“Alright, that’s it! Both of you, get outta here! Come back when you decide to grow up and act like f—ing adults!”

With almost identical scowls, Fowler and Hank watched the two detectives exit the room. One stomping, the other hardly seeming to touch the floor. 

“I didn’t know your android could stamp his feet, Hank.”

“You should see him when he wants to leave early for work and I’m not moving fast enough. Sometimes I want to get him a pair of tap shoes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Animal death
> 
> Didja catch the "wink" this time?


	5. Connor

The old, peeling anti-android sticker and the weedy lot filled with shattered glass bottles, sparkling in cheap third-hand lighting, should have been a warning about the clientele. Maybe it was.

Maybe that’s why he went in the old bar with the clouded windows and an old pink neon sign that buzzed like a dying fly. Maybe he couldn’t resist trouble’s lure.

Or maybe Gavin Reed was in the mood for a fight.

\--

He entered, took a quick survey as he sat down at the bar and ordered a neat drink.

Ears open, primed to be offended.

It wouldn’t take long. Loud-mouths needed an audience. Like androids needed blue blood.

After ten minutes of nothing, he set out bait.

He turned around to face the room, relaxing in an easy sprawl with his back against the bar. “Can’t believe this place is still in business.” The mutter was loud enough for anyone to think the comment directed at themselves. He took a drink, calculated to look like a swig. “What with the cops crackin’ down on anti-android activity.”

Gavin knew the man next to him was staring now. With grit teeth, he endured it.

Eating up the bait, the man,_ probably six foot, built like a boxer_, swung around to pick up the offered conversation. “Cops only care about high profile locations—small places like this? We pretty much get to do what we want.”

Giving the man a bored side-eye of green, Gavin shrugged and returned his attention to the room; taking note of who was watching, who was listening, who was moving. “That so? That’s not what I heard.” He rubbed out a blemish on his glass with a thumb.

“You talkin’ ‘bout?” The individual chugged his own drink and slammed it down.

“Heard talk. That’s all.” Gavin lifted his glass to his lips, seeming to savor it, but in actuality still scanning the dark room. Counting the patrons, gauging alcohol levels, identifying the weapons badly concealed under sweaty shirts or lumpy jackets.

The man threw back the shot he’d ordered. “Hear anythin’ you like?”

“Just that someone around here put an android in its place and survived to tell about it.”

“Whaddya think? Impressive, huh?”

Gavin scowled. “Beating up a house android? No.” He set his glass down with a dull thud.

“Who said it was a house droid?” The offended man leaned into Gavin’s face.

The revolting hot breath mixed with various liquors nearly choked Gavin. He obligingly shifted back a few inches, recoiling to give the other a sense of power and authority, drawing him into the trap. “I don’t remember.” He said. “They might’ve said it was a YK.”

The braggart sneered, “It wasn’t no regular droid or one of those kid ones either.”

“Says you.” Gavin finished his drink and motioned with the empty glass, “Anyone here could say the same. Doesn’t mean I have to believe it.”

“I’ve got proof.”

_B. I. N. G. O. and dumb-o was his name-o. _

Gavin hid his triumph behind a deep scowl and sarcastic interest. “Oh yeah? You got proof? What, you took a finger or some sh—t?”

“Not quite. Maybe I’ll do that next time.” The man chortled and slapped Gavin on the back. “Good idea! Hey, Chuckie, toss me that blazer I wanna show it to my new friend.”

_Uh. Yeah. No? _Gavin doubled down on his irritation to keep it from exploding. _Not yet._

“Hang on,” The man addressed as Chuckie dug around in a bag at his side. “Here it is.” He tossed over a grey bundle. “Boom.”

Gavin widened his eyes instead of narrowing them.

“That’s right.” The man said as he shook out the blazer and read off the serial number printed on its stained front, “Eh, RK...800....that’s that police model that was on the news a while back. An advanced model. Not so tough, though. Not like those construction models. Now, those you can get a few solid hours of fun out of. That RK was done in like,” he waved a hand, “thirty minutes.”

“So you beat up an RK800 last night.” _Confess. Let me hear you say it before you eat your teeth._

“Hey we helped.” Several others spoke up eager for praise.

“Yeah. We all took a shot at it.”

"Oh yeah?"

\--


	6. Hank

Ben was just getting to the good part of his ice cream—the half-melted toppings swirled at the bottom of the cup—when raised voices came through from the lobby. Ben continued picking through his dessert. Their new construction android turned receptionist could handle pretty much anything on her own; and failing that bastion, Gavin’s desk was right there by the entrance.

“And don’t think you’re getting off without writing up a field injury report!”

Must be Hank and Connor back from their investigation.

“Already did. Fifteen minutes ago. Lieutenant. After you said it the first time.” Connor’s clipped words matched the snappy steps his shoes made against the recently cleaned floor—slow days meant things got cleaned. “I do know protocol. And my auditory receptors are undamaged.”

“Yeah?” Hank drawled. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“I shouted at you to ‘stop’ a hundred times! Didn’t hear me then, didja?”

“It was forty-four times. And no. I didn’t. I must have been busy. Catching the murderer.”

“Falling into paint you mean.”

“I didn’t ‘fall’ I was pulled.”

A swearing Hank and a red LED’d Connor crossed into the bullpen—Connor politely albeit stiffly holding the heavy, clear entry door for his partner. The door was still awaiting repairs on its automated systems from when Gavin ran, or rather, he ran a suspect into it last week.

“I ain’t no ol’ lady.” Hank pushed the android along. “I can hold a door.”

“Fine.” Connor abruptly released his hold on the door.

It swung shut, forcing Hank to hop-skip forward and step on Connor’s heels to avoid getting his checkered red and purple shirt caught in the door’s transparent jaws.

The android huffily straightened his jacket and exaggeratedly checked his heels for scuffmarks.

Usually the partners were a well-oiled machine, complimenting each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Some days, though, their differences erupted in spectacular ways.

Gavin spun around in his chair. His eyes widened. “Hah—

“Shut up Gavin.” Connor snapped. “Or I’ll hug you.”

Ben smirked slowly and waited for the thoughtless ‘try it!’ It slipped out often enough, but apparently not this morning.

And Ben realized why when he saw Connor. He raised his eyebrows at the sight.

Connor was covered head to foot in a spectrum effect paint; every time he moved a fresh swash of color rippled over his body. Even from across the bullpen Ben could smell the fumes from the still drying paint. Gavin rolled further away from the android, nose buried into his scarf, eyes narrowed in annoyance at the chemical smell invading his desk space.

“Wow.” Ben tossed the empty ice cream cup into the waste bin. “That’s a new look. Urban camouflage?”

The prismatic android flipped the older man off with a poise that elevated the gesture into the realm of poetry.

“What’ve you been teaching that boy?” Ben asked Hank whose sleeves and hands were covered in the same paint. His entire front and the side of his neck was also splattered with the mess in a Picasso-like rendition of an android shape.

“Apparently not enough.” He raised his voice and directed his next words toward the android about to enter the restrooms. “He still thinks it’s okay to chase suspects no matter where they run!”

“I caught him didn’t I?” Connor snipped and then with a swash of color disappeared into the restrooms. The pneumatic door hinge squealed when it was forced shut.

“I rescued a puppy.” Ben reported on his slow morning. “It was cute.” He put his hands up by his ears to demonstrate. “Floppy ears.”

Ignoring Ben, Hank slammed a heavy binder onto his desk and then dropped into his chair. “He doesn’t seem to understand that just because he can run down a suspect doesn’t mean he should! That’s old school footwork. What’s he think we got the drones for now?”

Well, Ben thought, somebody got scared today. And it wasn’t Connor. “Is he okay?” 

“Oh. HE’S ‘fine’.” Hank did quote fingers and mimicked Connor’s precise diction. “I nearly died in a vat of toxic, old paint, but I apprehended the suspect.” The agitated lieutenant picked up and slammed down his phone to vent the excess energy from fear and adrenaline. “Gah! That kid! Why doesn’t he listen!?”

Knowing that both officers were unharmed, Ben shrugged off the drama with his usual ease. “Ah, yes, young and invincible. Remind you of anyone?” He leaned back in his chair, making it creak under his weight, and tried to catch Reed’s eye from across the ‘pen. “Perhaps a certain cocksure bantamweight?”

Reed slouched down in his chair.

“Gavin?” Hank frowned.

“Don’t you remember?” Ben called over. “Gavin, c’mon, back me up here. Didn’t you always love a good foot chase?”

A low grumble was the only answer from the assortment of jackets and scarf bundled into the office chair.

“Even if it takes you right through a certain lieutenant’s planned drug bust?”

Reed declined comment.

“You’re talking about when...” Hank smirked as the old memory came back to him in bittersweet bits and pieces. “That skinny kid was Gavin?” He said with surprise in his voice. “Hah! I shoulda known.” He laughed even though it wasn’t funny at the time: a clueless junior detective rampaging into a carefully planned drug bust while chasing a corner store robbery suspect.

“He chased that suspect right into your bust and then proceeded to arrest everyone on the spot once he realized he was in a red ice den.” Ben chuckled. “It was ‘Leeroy Jenkins’ in the flesh. Allen was laughing so hard he couldn’t even give orders.”

“So that’s why SWAT was so disorganized.” Hank mused. “He said it was a radio malfunction.”

“You were furious, Hank.” Ben breezed over the fact he’d just ratted out the SWAT captain’s old lie. “And there was Gavin swearing and bleeding everywhere. Ordering you around and demanding your cuffs so he could secure that red ice king pin. Tripped over him, didn’t you, Gavin?” Ben reminded him gleefully. “The king pin that Hank had spent the last six months hunting down and you tripped over him.”

“As if I remember all the stupid crap I do.” Gavin muttered one hand drifting down to touch an old scar on the side of his thigh.

Hank frowned as he dredged up the memory. It was hazy, but he did remember the fear when he realized the danger the young detective had been in surrounded by a gang of red ice manufacturers and their kingpin and his bodyguards.

And the pure rage he’d unleashed on a sulking junior detective afterwards.

Gavin was right. It was ‘stupid crap’ but at the end of the day, Hank realized, here they were able to joke about it. He looked toward the restroom doors and stood up, swearing at Ben. “I hate you.” He glowered as he stalked across to where his partner had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharing something I'd worked up some time ago. It's a bit rough, but I've missed playing in this sandbox so I decided to steal some time to swing by and didn't want to come empty-handed.
> 
> Expect updates on the WIPS starting by the end of next week.


	7. Connor

“Here.”

“Gavin, I’m not allowed to handle—

“Do I look like I give a sh—t about legislation?” Gavin slapped the gun into Connor’s palm. “Just shut the hell up and shoot.” He smashed a pair of safety glasses over Connor’s eyes and single-handedly turned the android around to face down range. Without that annoying blazer, the kid almost looked like a normal human rookie in his white shirt sleeves and tie. Gavin shoved away the thought. _Freakin’ androids. Advanced technology ain’t worth sh—t anymore._

With a frown, Connor straightened the glasses. He sighted the target through the yellow tinge and squeezed the trigger. The service weapon bucked in his hands. A new hole appeared in the paper target downrange. He took no pride in his marksmanship. He was a machine operating another machine. There was no sense in it. No sense in anything. It didn’t matter how perfect he was.

“Can I go now?” He tried to hand the gun over, but Gavin shrugged it away and brought up his own weapon, aimed and fired in a single movement, ignoring the uncomfortable and rather miserable android next to him. Connor had been sour for nearly two weeks now since he’d been...roughed up.

Gavin pushed away the uncomfortable memory and squinted through his safety glasses at the readout on the computer monitor on the counter before them. “D—mmit.” He muttered when he saw the trajectory of the shot.

“Six inches off the right.” Connor offered while staring at a scuff on his shoe. Normally, he’d buff them every evening.

“Frickin’ hell.”

“Nothing to be upset about. Especially since you’re firing with your non-dominate hand. In fact—

“Shut up.” Gavin scowled and tried to adjust the black sling that encased his right arm. “Not my fault this d—gerroff!” Gavin jabbed his unrestrained elbow threateningly at Connor who’d tried to help.

Connor backed off and turned his attention to the weapon in his hands. Slowly, the android cleared the gun’s chamber and released the clip, setting both down on the counter and stared at them while Gavin snapped off a few more shots.

Hank might have taken the opportunity to encourage him to talk.

But talking didn’t help. Connor had gone over everything countless times already in his own mind.

He knew...he knew...something was wrong. But talking with Hank before he had an answer to the man’s questions was pointless and just made them both frustrated.

_‘Kid. What’s wrong? What’s going on in that head of yours?’_

_‘I don’t want to talk about it!’ _

So they hadn’t talked for a week. He was supposed to be the ideal partner and a negotiator. He was supposed to be a DETECTIVE. But he was just a failure. And he didn’t even know why.

Only half-interested, Connor watched Gavin’s movements.

Raise. Aim. Fire. Simultaneously concentrated and nonchalant.

Miss.

Even before he had his arm in a sling, Gavin was not a good shot. Sure his accuracy rates were passing, but it was the lowest score in the department. If anyone dared, they might have made fun of him for it.

But it didn’t take a gun to hurt someone. And Gavin had a reputation for dishing out brutal payback that had nothing to do with accuracy.

Connor didn’t even know why he was at the firing range with the sergeant. Gavin had simply showed up at work that evening, zeroed in on him with a ‘Hey! You!’ and demanded his presence at the gun range. Connor had successfully avoided the usual gang so it was a little...nice? to see Gavin if only because it was a reminder of the...fun? he used to have before....before.....before....

Gavin scoffed at his own shot when the last one went wider than the others. “Hey. Plastic.”

“Hm?”

“Get out there and move that target to the right about six inches.”

The android hunched his shoulders. “If you want to shoot me, why bother with the pretense—

Gavin set his gun down.

And slammed Connor against the wall of the shooting cubical. The back of Connor’s head bounced off the hard surface and his LED flashed red.

Gavin twisted the android’s tie twice around his hand and yanked Connor down a few inches.

“Listen bud.” He spat the words. “The only ones who want you dead are the people out there who,” Gavin jerked his head to the side. “Who are gonna hurt anyone who gets in their way anyway. They don’t care who or what you are. These people. They don’t care. You got that? They’ll trample a baby if she gets in their way. It doesn’t matter to these people. You hear me?”

Connor wiped spit off his cheek with the back of his hand. “Yes, Detective. I hear you.” He was tired of this nonsense from humans trying to tell an android how to behave and think. What did they know about it? “Tell me when you have finished the peptalk so I can get back to work.”

“Pep...what?” Gavin looked horrified. “NO! I’m tellin’ you t’do yer JOB you phckin’ moron!”

“I’m a prototype detective. Remember? I know how to do my job—

“Don’t give me any of that sh—t! Everyone knows you’re fallin’ apart just because you got packed up inna b—

“Stop.” Connor hissed. “You don’t know what—

“Don’t know sh—t. You ain’t special ‘cause you got hurt! You think Tina enjoys having black eyes and a split lip every other week? You think she’s telling the truth when she’s laughing about not caring that she doesn't have any plans on a Friday night? Ask Chris about his issue with night patrols! You ain’t the only one hurting around here! We all got problems! We all get busted up in this job. You think I got this phckin’ shoulder—neck—thing—

“Clavicle.”

“Whatever. I didn’t get it—well nevermind that.” Gavin dropped his grip on the android. “This job tries to break you every frickin’ day. Get used to it or get out. Got that?”

Connor shook his head. “I-I don’t know....I’m...I’m...”

“Naw, naw, naw.” Gavin shook his head. “I’ll tell you what you are. You ain’t some tiny baby. Yer a phckin’ android! You can like...” Gavin waved his good arm, “I dunno bend steel an’ sh—t.”

“But...”

“But nothin'.” Gavin backed out of the cubical. “They bite you. You tear out their throat.”

Connor’s brow furrowed at the odd but not uncharacteristic advice. He was still trying to wrap his head around what Gavin was trying to accomplish. He wasn’t trying to murder him, he wasn’t abusing him, but he wasn’t exactly trying to make him feel better either....

Gavin’s voice came around the corner from where he’d disappeared. “Oh. And something turned up in Lost an’ Found. You might wanna check it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta a follow up to the events of the last 'Connor' chapter.


	8. Tina

Dried mud flicked across the little courtyard out in the back of DPD Central Station. A sheltered patio and a high wall protected it from the elements for the sake of officers and staff who needed a quiet moment or a smoke break or a quick lunch in the fresh air—when the weather was favorable.

The busy department neglected the courtyard since their android janitorial staff had absconded at the end of the revolution. Cigarette butts, rotting paper cups with weeds growing up around and through them, and balls of tinfoil and food wrappers littered the yard. Neglected ornamental shrubs completed the desolate look. Tucked away in a corner of the yard sat a little, dented food bowl, pink with black fish shapes on it.

Another chunk of mud bounced off the stained concrete steps.

The mud came from Connor who was seated on the porch steps and scraping mud off his shoes with an old pen.

The receptionist had nearly blown a fuse when he’d tracked through the lobby. Didn’t matter that Hank’s shoes had been just as filthy. She’d snapped at Connor for everything from lack of hygiene to lack of respect for the work she did to keep the lobby looking ‘like a d—mn, f—ing palace and not some human sh—t hole!”

Apparently amused by her tirade, Hank had given her a smile and a promise that Connor could come clean the lobby just as soon as he got his shoes cleaned.

Connor dug the pen into his shoe’s tread. “I’m a detective. Not a janitor.” He grumbled.

The door opened behind him.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He said a bit more sharply than necessary.

“Wrong number.”

“Oh.” He glanced over his shoulder, although he didn’t need to. He knew it was Chen by the flat voice. “Sorry. I thought you were....anyway...good afternoon, Officer Chen.”

The ‘flick’ ‘snap’ of a lighter and the smell of cigarette smoke answered.

“Hey. Connor.”

The android looked up from wriggling his foot back into his shoe. “Yes?”

Chen rolled her cigarette between her fingers. “Thanks.” She met his eye squarely in a way that was more confrontational than necessary. It wasn’t as if Connor was going to criticize her for being polite.

“You’re welcome.” His answer was automatic. His brow furrowed. “What for?”

“The gift basket.”

Connor smiled. “Oh.” He looked back down and tied his shoe. “I did not purchase a gift basket.”

Chen narrowed her eyes. Connor smiled up at her.

“The tag says you did.”

“But I didn’t. Maybe whoever bought it is shy?”

“Do you know who bought it?”

“Officer Chen, it’s a gift.” Connor stood up. “You should accept it as such.”

“How long have you been a detective?” Chen scoffed. “Police don’t get anonymous gifts. They get death threats. The whole thing is probably loaded with cyanide.”

“I could take a look at it. Run an analysis on the contents.” Connor offered tapping his shoes against the concrete once more. “I won’t ruin anything. And no sense in throwing away good food if there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Chen killed the cigarette against the wall and flicked it into the overfilled outdoor ashtray. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.” She jerked her head and went inside with the curious android on her heels.

The large gift basket took up the entire surface of one of the breakroom’s tables. The basket was a cheerful silver with a dark green bow. White tissue paper sprawled over its sides. Piled at every angle was an assortment of snack crackers, meats, cheeses and cookies.

Connor’s scan told him that it had probably cost nearly a hundred dollars.

A rustling sound and Gavin came around from behind it, stuffing a package into his jacket pocket and tossing something up and down in his other hand. 

“Detective Reed.” Connor blinked.

Gavin glared and backed toward the basket, arms crossed, as if defending a fresh kill. “Wharwanrt?” He muttered around a mouthful of food.

“That was Ti—Officer Chen’s.”

“Don’t see ‘er name on it.” Gavin picked out another sample sized packet of gourmet crackers and popped it open between his hands. “D’ya?”

Connor marched over, snapped the gift tag off the handle and thrust it at the sergeant, who squared his shoulders and feet as if ready to fight. Seeing that Connor was only showing him the name tag, he blinked and, still chewing the crackers, leaned forward and read the tag.

“To: Officer T. Chen. From: Connor.” He leaned back, one elbow on the table, and picked through the basket. “Fraternizing is against regulations.” He didn’t sound particularly concerned about the breach of policy.

“We’re not fraternizing.”

“Then why’d you buy her a present?” Gavin sneered.

“Connor didn’t buy it.” Chen crossed her arms and finally came into the breakroom from where she’d been standing in the doorway.

“Do you want it?” Gavin pulled out another tidbit and gestured at the basket.

“Not until we know if it’s been tampered with.” The ‘you moron’ was unstated but loud anyway.

Gavin blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Good idea....”

It was rare to see Gavin caught wrong-footed without also being a tiny rage volcano. “Well then...test it!” He jabbed Connor in the chest.

Connor first scanned Gavin. Elevated heartrate, not from pain or anything. Low blood sugar and slightly dehydrated, but based on the micro expressions that Connor had learned to watch for, Gavin seemed relaxed.

“Well?” Chen asked. “Is he gonna die?”

“Huh?”

“Poison.” She pointed at Gavin. “Is there poison?”

“Oh. Detective Reed is in good health aside from—

“I will send your tie through a shredder with you attached to it if you finish that sentence. Haven’t you ever heard of medical privacy?” Gavin shoved his palm against Connor’s shoulder.

Chen grabbed the basket and held it over the trash bin. “I’m pouring it out.” She said. “Unless you tell me in the next five seconds if it’s been tampered with.”

Connor thoroughly scanned the basket and found no signs of tampering. “It’s safe.” He confirmed. “Whoever got it for you seems to only wish you well. Is there anything special about today?”

Chen held the basket against her chest. “No.” She said. “Nothing.”

“Just a nice gesture then.” Connor said with an experimental smile.

Chen looked as if she was about to say more when she caught Gavin trying to pilfer another treat from the basket. From the looks of things, he’d already made a sizeable dent in the basket’s supplies.

She turned to keep it out of his reach. “Thanks. Would you STOP?!” She pulled the basket away again when Reed tried to get another snack.

“Hey, you ever hear of sharing?” Gavin tried to reach again. “Plastic cop, you’re the etiquette police. Tell her to share.”

Connor was torn in his loyalties. He wanted Chen to have her present, but he also wanted Gavin to eat—the man had a fast metabolism and an irregular appetite.

Chen had no such sympathy and swept out of the breakroom with her gift before Connor could decide on which approach to follow.

“Not like it’s going to fit on your desk!” Gavin shouted as he returned to his desk. He dug a snack out of his pocket and tossed it at Chris’ head. Throwing himself in to his chair, he munched his purloined snack while watching security feeds connected to his latest case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday goofiness for Friday


	9. Ben

“Any change?” Hank asked as he approached Connor who was sitting in the hospital’s waiting room. Mute, the android shook his head without looking up from staring at the floor. Hank grimaced and sat down next to the android. “How’s Gavin?”

Connor shrugged; still without looking up.

Hank leaned back and was about to draw out his phone when he saw a little drop of thirium fall to the floor between Connor’s feet. With a gentle hand Hank cupped the android’s chin and turned Connor to face him. “Oh, kid.” The android’s lips were scuffed and stained blue from a cut that ran across his lower lip.

Connor shifted closer to Hank, opening his arms, asking for a hug. Hank obliged even though the chair arm dug into his stomach and Connor’s strong fingers dug painfully into his backribs. “It’ll be okay, pal.”

\--

Hank went into the room and found Ben awake, finger combing the disheveled hair of a very much asleep Gavin whose head was pillowed on his arms at the side of the bed. 

“Doc says you’ll live.” Hank whispered as he sat in the chair at the end of the bed. He leaned forward, hands gripping his knees. It seemed that Connor wasn't the only one still wound tight with tension. 

“Mmhmm.” Ben murmured, fond eyes on the sleeping sergeant. A series of neat, small stitches closed a deep but equally small gash along the underside of Gavin's jawline. Ben paused in his hair stroking. “Connor saved my life. Poor thing. I didn’t think these youngster detectives cared that much about an ol’ fat cop.

A discontented grumble escaped Gavin and his feet shifted restlessly where they were tucked—painfully, Hank thought—under the visitor’s chair. Ben resumed his gentle caresses.

“That’s the first time Reed’s been asleep since it happened.” Hank softened his voice another level.

Ben shook his head and rested his hand against Gavin’s dark hair. “They said he broke into the operating room—

“Threatened.” Hank corrected with a small wince. “He was convinced you were dying to spite him personally.”

“Odd. I could have sworn I heard him.”

“The whole hospital heard him.” Hank said, leaning back in the chair. “How long are they gonna let him sleep there?”

“As long as he needs to. Can you get a blanket from that dresser? He seems to have lost his jacket.”

“Connor sent it out to get cleaned.”

“Ah. I guess I was making a bit of a mess.”

Hank nodded. He rubbed a hand over his face. “For a moment, there, we’d thought Gavin had been caught in the blast.” He didn’t say anything about the amount of blood that had been cleaned off the DPD’s lobby floor.

“No. Just unlucky me.” Ben snuggled the blanket around Gavin’s shoulders and neck. “But I don’t mind.”

“Well, Hank said, standing up—he’d heard the nurses approaching footsteps—“could you do us all a favor and not get blown up again? It really stresses out the wildlife.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. I’ll make sure I decline the next mail-order bomb.”

Hank gave his old friend a tight smile. “I’m gonna get Connor back to the house. I think he’s still a little shell-shocked. His speech processors haven’t finished rebooting yet; I’ll bring him by tomorrow for a visit?”

“That’d be nice. Tell him I said hi and that I owe him.”

“Just get him another plushy.” Hank said a little too loudly as he walked out, he flinched when Gavin scoffed in his sleep.

Ben brushed at the younger man’s hair for a moment, soothing him back into a deeper, dreamless sleep. Something mischievous sparked in the cop’s eyes. “How many plushies do you think my life is worth?”

“Don’t you dare.” Hank said pointing a warning finger. “He’s already got too many as it is.”

“Hey, it was your idea.”

Hank waved and left still shaking his head.


	10. Damian

Chris hauled the baby carrier into the bullpen and clandestinely tucked it out of sight under his desk.

As soon as Chris was gone into the captain’s office, Gavin sauntered out of the breakroom, eyes tracking for mischief this slow morning. He immediately noticed the colorful carrier and multicolored spotted blanket under his colleague’s desk.

Chris was just returning from Fowler’s office—paperwork in hand—when he heard a surprised shout.

“It’s a miniature Miller!”

The mixture of surprise and glee in Reed’s voice made Chris think of a kid who’d just received a puppy for Christmas.

“His name is Damian.” He said coming back to retrieve his son.

“Mini Miller.” Gavin repeated from where he stood, arms crossed staring down at the cooing baby as if memorizing every feature. His fingers tapped against the desk while he processed whatever thoughts were filling his mind at that moment.

The baby suddenly squealed in spontaneous delight and flailed arms and legs like a chubby octopus cheering a touchdown.

Gavin startled at the sound and Chris was charmed to see the smallest, most fleeting smile cross the sergeant’s face. Then it was gone and Gavin shrugged, walking away.

“Huh.” Chris heard him mutter. “Mini Miller.”


	11. Tina

\--

Leaning against the rough concrete railing, Tina Chen blinked hard in the cooling evening air and picked at her cheap-mascara-coated lashes. Being free of the confines of the mansion, the aggregate of noise, and the heat of too many bodies in a closed room full of polished attitudes and plastic surgery was already improving her mood. Tina turned her back on the building and crossed her arms and glared out at the lit gardens and fountains that filled the governor’s ‘backyard.’

Even the shrubs were better groomed than she was. “Frickin’ plants.” She muttered.

A trilling laugh escaped through an open window.

Her eyes prickled and something caught in her throat. “D—mn allergies.” Tina rubbed her arm across her face. She didn’t care that her makeup smudged across her face and arm. It didn’t matter. _Ugly is ugly. _What was one grungy police officer in comparison to elegant androids and smooth political players?

Tina beat her fist against the railing’s wide top. On the job, surrounded by her equally scrungy and misfit colleagues—the DPD androids didn’t count. She was used to them—it was easy to pretend. Easy to be stoic Officer Chen instead of silly, crybaby Tina who made herself sick on ice cream and chocolate sauce because no one asked her to prom.

Fifteen minutes of this stupid ‘party’ and Tina realized that maybe she wasn’t meant to wear makeup and pretty dresses. Those were for beautiful people.

The lump in her throat increased.

Chris and Fowler were in attendance with their wives. And even her ratty colleagues cleaned up nice. Anderson had worn a suit...of a sort. A weak smile pulled at Tina’s lips. Where HAD the lieutenant found that suit? He looked like an 80’s alien. But even he fit the wild look better than Tina did her stupid dress. She plucked at the stiff fabric and missed her uniform again.

And...Nines and Connor....they looked...nice in their custom suits. As androids, they had the luxury of adapting human styles and claiming that they were developing android culture.

At least that’s what Nines said when he showed up in his midnight purple, long-coated attire that was definitely a style based on Markus’ affection for long coats. Connor had nodded along, but his brown eyes had definitely had a hint of playful mischief that reminded Tina of a certain detective-sergeant who’d been ordered to attend, but had disappeared after two minutes of walking in the door.

_Probably kept going out the back door._

Reed was probably back at work or whatever rock he lived under.

Tina dropped her face into her hands. _I shoulda done the same. _

When the Captain had invited both Miller and herself to the formal dinner and dance, Tina had been excited.

But everything went wrong from the start.

Apparently you couldn’t spend the last three years of your life not giving a flip about personal appearance and then expect to know the first thing about dressing up.

Her muscular shoulders wouldn’t fit into any of the store’s ready-made dresses. Her chest was too small for the larger dresses. The tan line on her neck looked horrible with the low cut dresses. High cut dresses made her look insecure. Her legs looked pasty under the cocktail dresses, but the evening gowns were too long and she’d looked like a child who’d raided her mother’s closet.

She didn’t even want to think about what the dumb heels were doing to her feet. Sniffling back the stupid allergy attack, she kicked off the shoes and watched with satisfaction when they struck the opposite side of the small patio.

Something tickled her neck. Worried it was an insect, she slapped herself. It was just her earrings.

“D—mn it.” She pulled off the costume jewelry, shoulder-dusters she’d pulled out of a drawer. She threw them into the manicured bushes surrounding the high patio. Sniffling angrily, she yanked out the hair extensions and threw those too. She pulled one of the hair ties off her wrist and wrapped her flat, badly-curled hair up in its customary tight ‘tail. _There. Welcome back, Chen._

Feeling more like herself, she leaned against the concrete bannister. She dug around in her clutch for her cigarettes. Before she could snap her lighter to life, something bounced off her shoulder. She frowned and looked up.

Detective Reed was sitting cross-legged on the lip of the patio’s roof. He most certainly was not wearing what he’d arrived in. He must’ve changed into his usual attire in the two minutes he’d been inside.

_The sneak. _

Another cheeto bounced off her nose. Tina frowned deeper. “Uh. Sergeant....?”

“Get up here.” Reed snapped. “Before someone sees you gawping.”

She threw her shoes up to the roof, but getting herself up was a little more complicated. Reed had to give her instructions on how to scale a decorative column.

Once the roof’s edge was in reach, it was easy enough to pull herself up onto the roof. “What’re you doing?” Tina asked as she looked around from her new vantage point.

Reed searched through his backpack and popped open a bag of cheetos. “Attending the phckin’ banquet like capt’n ordered.” He tossed a cheeto into his mouth and chomped it. “Duh.”

No less than five co-workers had conspired to keep Reed from showing up to a formal dinner with a backpack, but somehow the detective had also squirrelled away two plates of hors d'oeuvre, a decanter of ice water and a pile of cloth napkins. And...a pizza?

Tina sniffed and rubbed her eye. “I don’t think sitting on a patio roof eating snacks and junk food counts, boss.”

“Meh.” Reed poured the opened snack into his mouth. “I wasn’t ‘bout to ruin an’ evenin’.” He chewed and swallowed. “Any idea how much longer this sh—t’s gonna last?”

Tina shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sat down and lit her cigarette. “Why don’t you ask your fancy partner?”

“Don’t talk to me about that brownnosing skyscraper.” Reed pointed the empty bag at her. “An’ this’s a frickin’ ‘no smoke’ zone.”

Tina snubbed out the cigarette. “Nines seemed to be enjoying himself.”

“He’s just in a schmooze competition with Connor.”

Huh. That explained a few things. Neither android seemed to care about politics more than they were required to, but no sooner had a few smooth words left Connor to the doorman, then Nines was initiating his stunted social protocols on a frilly-aproned wait-staff member. And so, Connor upped his game and chatted up the mayor. Nines went for the lieutenant governor.

Tina wouldn’t be surprised if either of them ended up in prison or the White House. “At least some of us are having fun.”

Reed scoffed.

Things were quiet after that. For as loud as he could be, Tina realized, Reed seemed muted tonight as he munched his snacks and studied files on his phone.

Anyone else, Tina might have tried to make small-talk, but knowing her boss, she contented herself with sprawling on her back and watching the few bright stars she could spot.

\--

“Detective Reed.” The baritone rumbled through the night air.

Tina blinked awake. “Huh?”

“Shhh—t.” Reed hissed and scooted further into the shadows. “I’m not here.” He mouthed.

Tina peered over the edge and saw Nines looking around. “Detective Reed. I know you are out here. You are the only one who would have access to cheetos at the governor’s mansion.” He looked up, incriminating evidence between two fingers. “Oh. Good evening, Officer Chen.” He looked mildly confused, but did not ask about why she was on the roof. “Have you seen Detective Reed?”

“No.”

Reed and Tina yelped when the combat android leapt onto the roof with them. To Tina’s surprise, Reed moved in front of her. Did he think Nines was a threat? Why would he try to protect her from his own partner?

“I do not appreciate being lied to.” It would have been more frightening if the android had not sounded like an exasperated mother with a rebellious two-year old who denied drawing on the walls while holding the marker.

“Then don’t ask f—kin’ dumb questions.” Reed snarled. “The hell you want anyway?”

Tina leaned around so she could see what Nines was doing.

“I informed the captain that I was ready to leave.”

“S’at got t’do with me?” Reed relaxed and moved away. He started shoving his feet into his ratty sneakers.

Nines’ chuckled his throaty laugh. “The captain said, ‘take Detective Reed with you before he burns the house down.’ I am following his orders.”

“Pfft.” Reed stood and hopped to get his foot in the shoe. He grabbed his backpack and shouldered it. “You comin’ Chen? Or you gonna wait to turn into a phckin’ pumpkin or a gremlin or some sh—t?”

“Would you like a ride home?” Nines translated the offer.

Tina gathered up her shoes and purse. “Ah...yeah. Thanks.”

Then something odd happened. Reed darted past Nines and jumped off the roof.

Swinging around, movement fluid, rapid and powerful, Nines caught the impulsive human midair, but Reed’s momentum and weight overbalanced them and they toppled over the edge.

Tina shouted and ran to the edge.

Nines was standing flat-footed, holding Reed to his chest.

Indignant, the detective-sergeant yowled and all but climbed over Nines’ head to escape the protective hold, nearly falling on his head when Nines finally gave up holding him and let his partner down in a controlled fall.

Growling and slapping away Nines’ hands, Reed waspishly straightened his clothes. 

After giving his partner a warning pointed finger, Nines turned to Tina. “Officer Chen do you require assistance?”

“Do I have to do it like that?”

“You are far more graceful than Detective Reed. I will catch you. Jump, please.”

Shaking her head and laughing for the first time all night Chen let herself tumble off the roof to be caught by her boss’ partner.

Nines set her lightly down and, pulling Reed by the hood, he offered his arm to Tina, and escorted them both away, taking a long route around the house.

Tina smirked and swung her purse and shoes in her free hand. So what if she wasn’t an elegant 5’ 9, 36, 24, 36? She was fine with being: Tina Chen #5195 of the DPD.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's something to tide us over between chapters on the longer fics.   
HDR, Leave or Stay, and an upcoming prompt-fill are in the works.   
Take care all!


	12. Homeless

\--

“Chen.”

Tina leapt in her seat at the proximity and suddenness of the sergeant’s voice in her ear. “Holy hell, boss. What?”

“You smell like cheap cigarettes.” Gavin rubbed his sleeve across his nose, over his eyes and over the top of his head, smoothing down his hair—it always became a tad unruly toward the end of the day, almost at the same progression as his five o’clock shadow. 

“What of it?” Tina snapped—defensive as a habitual smoker tired of being constantly pestered by others over her choice of personalized destruction. “Rent went up again. I gotta save where I can.”

“You could—

She pointed at him. “Don’t.” She finished off the report and swiveled around in her chair. “You want something?”

Gavin shrugged. “You need to cover Miller’s patrol route.”

“What? Now?”

“Yep.”

Chen sighed and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. Gavin tailed her out to the parking lot. 

“Now what?”

Gavin stood by the passenger side of Tina’s patrol car, drumming his fingers on the roof. “What?”

“You’re coming with?”

“Yep.”

\--

It wasn’t the first time Gavin had tagged along on one of Tina’s patrols, but she could count on one hand the number of times he had. Every single time before, he’d been up to some scheme. As she drove, Tina let her attention spread out to the streets, roads, and windows—actively scanning and dismissing anyone who stood too still, fidgeted too much, walked with too much purpose or not enough. Watched hands and feet, faces and expressions. 

There was a group of young women laughing outside a store. Tina lifted her foot from the pedal and scanned the group, making sure everyone was having a good time. Nothing worse than getting tricked into having ‘fun’ only to be turned into the ‘fun.’ 

Nope. All good.

Several girls in the group flipped off the car. The others joined in with a chorus of: ‘f—king pigs!’

Chen rolled her eyes. 

Gavin was on the radio talking with dispatch. “Yeah. High energy gang of five. Just outside...uh...that department on 9th...y’know the one that used to have those weird glowing androids? Yeah. Can I get a patrol drone or a car to keep a presence around the clubs an' bars in the area tonight? Wanna make sure those gals get back to their families in one piece.” He clicked off the radio and resumed his own scan of the streets.

“Why you think they were going out tonight?” Tina didn’t care if she was looking for a fight with Reed. He’d started off with the insults after all.

“I dunno. Isn’t that what people do on a weekend with their new clothes?” Gavin peered over his shoulder. “That’s what Miller says any—stop!”

Tina swore and yanked the car over to the curb. Gavin was yelping at her, “No, no, no, not here! Keep goin', around the block.”

“The hell is going on?”

“I told you.”

Tina tightened her fingers around the wheel. “No. Sergeant. You did not.”

“I need you to be as sexy as possible an' go rough up a homeless man an' drag him back to the patrol car in handcuffs.”

Tina slammed on the brakes again. “You. Say, what?”

Gavin blinked. “Homeless guy. Go arrest him. Bring him here. Put in car.”

“That isn’t what you said the first time.”

Gavin shook his head. “Yeah it was.”

“You said for me to ‘be as sexy as possible.’ The hell does that mean?”

“Beats me.” Gavin didn’t look up from his phone. “That’s jus' what the guy said t'say.”

“What guy?”

“Homeless guy.”

Tina rubbed her hands over her face. “Can you start from the beginning?”

“No. Takes too much time."

"Start talking."

"Look. This guy is a CI. But he’s been gettin' disrespect from the other homeless chumps on the block. Call him goody-two shoe an’ sh—t. Thought that if he got himself picked up by a sexy lady cop and roughed up, then he wouldn’t have to leave the area.”

Tina shook her head. “No. I’m not doing that.”

Gavin dropped his phone onto his leg. “What? But you have to.”

“It’s....” Tina tried to think of the word, “sexist.”

“’kay...so you won’t help ‘cause yer a girl. That makes sense."

“D—mn you, Gavin Reed.” Tina snapped as she pulled around the block again. 

“Sirens.” Gavin said. “I’ll call it in on dispatch. Some of those guys have scanners. Gotta make it look real.”

\--

“Really appreciate this you guys.” The homeless man gripped the screen between him and the cops. “You can’t believe how childish some of these vagrants can get. I swear, it’s like high school out there.”

“Y’don’t say.” Tina muttered. 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little update before I have to give some eh...news....
> 
> I may have given myself some form of carpal tunnel or tennis elbow or something...anyhow....I'll still be working on updating the WIPs, but updates will be much slower than I planned. 
> 
> Take care all!


End file.
